


Setting the Rules

by ssa_archivist



Series: The Worthy [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-17
Updated: 2002-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex pushes away. Clark pushes down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setting the Rules

## Setting the Rules

by ShimmyGloss

<http://vleonard.com/shimmygloss/>

* * *

* * *

I. Accusations

Who knew that being in love would interfere with work so completely? Tomorrow's meeting was crucial. I had to focus on the spreadsheet in front of me, had already spent the whole morning trying. But the columns of numbers on my monitor just couldn't compete with the images of Clark that kept appearing in my mind. 

I tapped my pencil on the pad, trying to decipher my scribbled note. I was going to do this right, make Clark proud, and give him the world, honestly won. And I could wait until Clark was of age to mention my feelings. I could. Jesus, it was only two more months. And four days. I shuffled through the papers on my desk looking for last month's purchase order printout, and missed it, twice. 

Last night's dream about the boy wasn't doing my concentration any good at all. Suddenly realizing what my mouth was doing, I bit my lip, then sighed, and put my head down on the desk. The whole world had to be in the hands of people incapable of falling in love. Otherwise, how did anything ever get done? 

I tried again. The columns had scrolled. No doubt the result of my fist on the keyboard. There were footsteps in the hall. I checked my watch. My schedule was supposed to have been cleared, so this was probably one of my staff. It was time to look like the competent employer. I took a large swallow of coffee and a deep breath. 

And was shocked to see Clark's mother walk in, looking about as uncomfortable as I suddenly felt. The sharp spasm of guilt angered me. I hadn't done anything. My dreams were not under my control. I pushed the guilt and anger down, and stood up, a puzzled smile on my face. 

"Mrs. Kent, good morning. I wasn't expecting you." I walked around the desk toward her. 

"Good morning, Lex," she replied, her brow furrowing and her lips tightening around her words. "Do you have time to talk?" 

"I'm at your disposal at any time, Mrs. Kent," I said, leading her over to a small sofa. "How do you take your coffee?" I genuinely liked her. Her eyes had a warmth that reminded me of my mother, though it didn't seem to quite be there today. 

"Black, Lex, thank you," she said, eyeing me almost warily. What was that about? I poured some coffee for her, nearly emptying the carafe. I was definitely hitting the stuff today, not that it was helping. I grabbed my own coffee off the desk and sat down next to her. 

"What may I do for you?" I asked, handing her the coffee. 

"I-I really don't know h-how to ask you this," she faltered and looked away. I waited. She looked up at me suddenly. "Lex, are you having an affair with my son?" 

"What on earth makes you think that?" I could have gone straight for the denial, but was frankly eager to hear what Clark had been saying or doing at home to provoke these suspicions. 

"Lex, I'm not blind. I've seen the way he looks at you. And" she continued, looking straight at me, "the way you look at him. His eyes sparkle when he talks about you. And he talks about you more and more every day. When I say it, it doesn't sound like much, but..." 

"but...you're his mother." 

She nodded. 

"Mrs. Kent, I assure you," I started, shaking my head, but got no further. Somebody else was coming down the hall. This time, I recognized the step. This was not good. My father had always had the most appalling timing. Sure enough, he swept into the room a moment later. 

"Mrs. Kent, you remember my father," I sighed, waving vaguely in the direction of the approaching figure. 

"Mrs. Kent," my father said simply. He'd apparently had his whole say. 

"Mr. Luthor," responded Mrs. Kent, in much the same way. No love lost here. There was a short, awkward silence. 

"I really should get home," said Mrs. Kent, getting up and turning toward me with a warming smile. There was no doubt. She was feeling sorry for me. 

"I'll walk you out," I said, getting up and leading her toward the door. We could finish this conversation in the time it took to get downstairs. Mrs. Kent, however, preferred a postponement. 

"That's not necessary, Lex," she said, stepping into the hall and looking back at me. I silently mouthed the word 'no,' and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She smiled again, turned, and left. 

"One down," I thought, looking after her. I turned around, and saw my father sitting on the sofa, a drink in his hand. He was giving me a calculating look. Today was not the day for this. Since my father improved with distance, I went back to my desk, and picked up the pencil. 

"I'm very busy right now, dad, since you care. If I ask you why you're here, can I get the condensed version?" 

"No time for your old man, Lex?" he said, walking toward the desk. "How many times do we have to do this?" 

As many as it takes to get you out of my life. No, not that conversation. Go with thought number two. "I'm in a time crunch, dad." 

"And I've come all the way from Metropolis to stay involved in my son's life." 

"I'm sure you know how touched I am by your paternal concern, dad," I said, suddenly finding that I needed something on the other side of the room. "Now, what do you want?" 

"Only to help you, Lex." 

"With?" 

"Your decision-making skills. Concerning the Kent boy." 

"What about him?" 

"He's your new toy. Tell me, what exactly is worth that kind of risk?" 

The pencil wasn't the only thing that snapped. Fine. If my father could believe such a thing of me, let him. 

"What's the problem, dad?" I taunted. "Is Clark Kent one of your ex-lovers?" 

"Lex!" Mrs. Kent's voice hit my spine like a wave of liquid nitrogen, and spread to every hidden corner of my body and mind before I could spin around and see her standing in the doorway. 

* * *

II. Decision

Why hadn't I heard her? Because my anger had clouded my senses. I knew that. I could almost hear a hundred lectures replaying in my memory. Of course, my father had remained aware and in control. As always. 

These darkening thoughts went through my mind in a flash, leaving a vast emptiness. There didn't seem to be another coherent thought left in my mind. I couldn't get anything out of my brain, let alone my mouth. I stared at the woman in the doorway, hardly knowing who she was. 

"M-Mrs. Kent," I stammered. I simply couldn't get any further to save my life. 

"I think I dropped my keys," she said softly, walking into the room. "You lied to me, Lex." 

The accusation pulled me together at last. 

"I didn't lie to you, Mrs. Kent," I pleaded, knowing she wouldn't believe me. "There's nothing going on between Clark and me." 

My father let out a derisive laugh. 

"I didn't lie to you either, dad. If you infer a thing and accuse me, that's not the same as my admitting to it." 

His father smiled that tiny smile that always gave me the creeping horrors. Every such smile was a notch cut in some dark corner of my father's mind that I didn't want to know about. Then he turned serious. 

"Don't take that tone with me, Lex. I'm your father." 

"That, at least," I countered, instantly regretting my words. I didn't want to get into a fight with my father in front of Mrs. Kent. My father seemed to feel the same way. After scowling at me and glancing at Mrs. Kent, he went off to refill his glass. This was going to get ugly once she left. I turned to Mrs. Kent. 

"I know you don't believe me, but you asked me, and I'm telling you. I'll always look out for Clark's welfare. I won't betray his trust." 

My father's cell went off. He retreated to my desk as he answered it. 

She seemed calmer, but I had a question of my own. "Why even ask me? Why didn't you just ask Clark? He'd never lie to you." A thought occurred. "You do know that, don't you?" 

"I just thought 'Yes' wouldn't sound so bad coming from you as from my only son." 

"You won't get 'Yes.' Just ask h-- Wait." I glanced over at my father, who was on the other side of the room, looking at my spreadsheet as he talked. I dropped my voice to a whisper. "You trusted me? You asked me because you trusted me to tell you?" Whatever was going on in my face seemed to strike her as funny. I let it go. 

"Did you find your keys?" I asked. Her expression said clearly that she would have walked out without them again if I hadn't mentioned them. 

"I think they're on the sofa," she said. The keys were indeed there, right where my father had been sitting. Nobody could set a trap as well as my father could. She picked them up, and left without another word. 

My father finished his call, and came back toward me. 

"Get out, dad," I said softly. This day was kicking my ass. Now it was my father's turn, and that was something I didn't need. 

"I don't have time to pursue this further, Lex," he said. It had to be a real emergency, if he couldn't make the time to give me hell. "And I need you to talk to the lawyers about those patents. They'll be here tomorrow at ten." 

"There is nothing to pursue, dad. And had you bothered to check the plant schedule on the intranet," I said, my voice going a little snarky, "you would know I have a staff meeting tomorrow at nine." It wasn't exactly a staff meeting, but that's how it showed up on the schedule. 

"Call my office and reschedule, for today if you can. I want this deal signed as soon as possible." 

"Duly noted. You know the way out." 

He put down the glass and started to leave. Realizing that he would pass directly behind me on the way to the door, I walked off in a random direction, ending up at the bar. I stood there, absently watching the empty glass my father had left, until the sound of footsteps died away. 

So. I was ruining Clark's reputation without ever touching him. The gossip had probably been spreading for weeks. How could I have been so blind as to not see this happening? I shouldn't have needed my father and Mrs. Kent to hand me a gift-wrapped clue. 

Well, this changed everything. Whatever future Clark and I might have, there could never be a secret relationship between consenting adults in it, not with everybody already talking about it. So, what were my options? 

I could seduce Clark now. There was a chance he wouldn't even want me, or at least wouldn't want the trouble that a relationship with me would bring him. So, he might actually be easier to get into my bed now, when he had far less to lose. 

I could shield him from criminal liability, at least until his birthday. If he chose me afterwards, at least he'd know what he was getting into. That is, assuming that I was still at liberty and able to enter the county. 

After all, it wasn't as though the law meant anything to me except as a risk to be considered. And I was a lot further from being an adult than Clark was now, when _my_ mouth and ass were broken in. Of course, it wasn't as though I'd had a choice. 

And that was at the root of my qualms. While Clark was a minor, even encouraging him to hit on me would have felt like abuse. I just couldn't do it. Frankly, I needed him to shove my face into a wall on his own initiative. And how likely was that? 

Maybe I should wait. Haul the kid off to Canada after his birthday, and come back to a life together. Damn anyone who didn't like it. Pretend that he wouldn't still be way too young to settle down. That I didn't have to give my family another generation. That Clark could be mine, and I his, in any real and permanent way. 

Great. From clueless to delusional. This was no more than wishful thinking. If I really, really cared about Clark, there was only one thing I could do. And it was going to kill me to do it. 

* * *

III. Denial

"I may not evermore acknowledge thee,  
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame; Nor thou with public kindness honour me, Unless thou take that honour from thy name: But do not so;" 

The verse ran through my mind as I walked out the door, and watched Clark drive up with the week's produce. I had never dreaded a meeting more. He smiled and waved. I returned the greeting. 

He stopped the truck, got out, pulled a basket of produce from the back of the truck, and walked over. 

"Hi, Lex," he said, smiling. 

"Hi, Clark," I responded, holding the door open for him. He disappeared into the house and reappeared a moment later. 

"Clark, do you have a minute?" 

"Sure, Lex," he said, looking intently at me. "What's wrong?" 

"Walk with me on the grounds." I turned and walked away from the house. Clark quickly caught up with me. 

"What's wrong, Lex?" 

"Clark, how are things between you and Lana?" 

"This is about Lana?" 

"Not exactly. I just need a starting point." 

"Things are the same." 

"What about between you and Chloe?" 

"Lex, nothing, nothing in my life has changed since the last time we talked. What's bugging you?" 

"Rumors, Clark. Rumors of gossip." 

Clark gave me a bewildered look. "Since when do you care about gossip?" 

"Since it concerns you." 

"Me?" 

"Both of us, actually. Word is that we're having a affair." 

"Is that bad?" 

At another time, I would have welcomed the sparkle in his eyes. Right now, it just depressed my spirit. 

"Yes, Clark. This isn't Metropolis. You have to live in this town." 

"What do I care what people say about me?" 

"You have a family business to protect. These people are your client base. If they're gossiping about your sex life, it's not because they approve. You can't afford that." 

Silence. Walking. 

"Clark, I'm not asking you to do anything you haven't thought about doing. I'm just asking you to hurry up." 

"Hurry up and do what?" 

Sometimes, you have to spell everything out. "Clark, find a nice girl, and get your cherry popped." 

"What makes you think I'm--" 

"Oh, don't even start with me, Clark," I said. "I'm the best cherry spotter you'll ever meet." 

"That's quite a skill," said Clark, sounding impressed. 

"A gift," I said, almost not rolling my eyes. 

"So, you can tell--" 

"How anyone can believe that you're getting laid by anybody is beyond me, but gossip doesn't need evidence. That's the problem." 

"Maybe I don't want a nice girl," said Clark softly. 

I was all business. "You won't know what you want until you've had a chance to explore your options. That's good. It's normal. Unfortunately, the need for damage control has to influence your timing." 

We walked along in silence. I was about to raise the stakes, and needed a moment to get ready. I wanted something from Clark. I could say anything to him, and in that moment believe it, as though it were true. I stopped, and pushed him around to face me. 

"You can't be seen with me, Clark. Don't screw up your future for something that isn't even happening. Something that isn't ever going to happen. I'm not interested in you. If you let these rumors continue, you're hurting me as well as your family." 

Hurt, of course, was the only thing in his eyes. Miles of hurt. I saw it, but didn't dare think about it. 

"I have to go home now, Lex." 

He turned and walked away. I stood in his wake, watching him leave. As the truck pulled away, I felt chills run through my bones. It had to be the wind, because I had no reason to be going through withdrawal. 

After a while of standing with my eyes fixed on the point where Clark's truck had disappeared from view, I went back upstairs to my office. I pulled Clark's class president campaign poster from my desk, and took it over to the window, to study it in the brighter light. 

Then I slammed my fist into the wall, which, given that the wall was made of stone, had to be considered a bad idea. I didn't care. Clark was gone, and I'd never felt like such a jerk in my life. 

* * *

IV. Arrival

Smallville being, well, small, I had to practically ground myself to keep from running into Clark. I concentrated my energies on my work, and spent long hours at the plant. When I got home at night, I stayed there. I drove to Metropolis on weekends, just to get some air and to keep myself sane. 

My staff were instructed that I was not in to Clark Kent. I stopped answering doors and phones that someone on my payroll could answer. There was still my cell, but it had Caller I.D. A single call got me the numbers of all the pay phones that Clark was likely to use. 

I cringed every time a phone rang. Several times, it was Clark. His calls never got put through to me. One afternoon, he showed up at the plant. He didn't get past reception. Sometimes, people are just too competent. 

My father didn't get back to me. No doubt his spies told him that I was avoiding Clark. He probably thought that he had put the fear of Lionel into me by calling me on my dirty little secret. I was too proud ever to appear cowed in front of my father, but had no problem with lulling him into a false sense of security by default. 

I wondered how many spies my father had in Smallville. Nell, of course, which was why I needed Lana. There were a few people at the plant on whose loyalty I wouldn't wager last Tuesday's Wall Street Journal. Two of these, I further suspected of seeking out new talent for my father. It was only a matter of time before they snagged Lana's boyfriend, Witless. Now _there_ was a professional goon just waiting for an offer. 

But, life want on. And once a week, Clark still delivered produce to the house. I made it a point to be at my desk, watching the feeds from the security cameras. I wanted to see him. It was the only time I ever saw him any more. After the first week, I bought more cameras. 

As I watched, Clark would leave the produce and go back to the truck. Then, he would look up at the house, scanning along the walls until he seemed to be staring right at me through solid stone. 

It was logical, of course. Almost every time he'd visited me, I'd been at this desk. He was bound to think of me as being here. Still, it did creep me out a little bit. 

This was the third time that I had sat here and watched Clark bring the produce. Again, he left it, then went back to the truck. He looked up at the house. He seemed to look straight at me. 

Then he got something out of the truck. He hadn't done that before. It was his backpack. He walked back to the house. The door must have been left open, because he walked in, hardly breaking his stride. 

He was on his way up here. 

I quickly turned off my computer, and went to my bedroom through the private stairs. He wasn't going to find me. We were not going to talk, because there was nothing more to say. Once in my room, I poured myself a drink and tossed it back. Then I collapsed on my bed. 

I would just wait here until he left or got thrown out. Clark had never been to my bedroom. He wasn't going to find it on his own, and nobody was going to tell him where it was. 

I lay on my back, spread-eagled, and closed my eyes. Clark. How could I love him, when he didn't even trust me? I _had_ hit him with my car. He wasn't a mutant, though. Mutants took their powers from the meteor rocks. Clark could barely breathe while that stupid necklace was around his neck. Once it fell off... I followed him back to town in my _car_ , and couldn't catch up with him. 

Knowing this didn't help. I still loved him. I wanted to see him face to face. To tell him how much I needed him, and how sorry I was for what I'd said. But, for his sake, I couldn't. If somebody would just come along and tie me up, it would be so much easier not to get up right now and run back to my office. 

There was an odd sound at my door. Before I could look up, Clark was kneeling over me, straddling my body. His hands were pinning my arms to the bed. 

"I am so pissed off at you, Lex!" he yelled. 

I looked up into stormy, green eyes. He did look pissed. 

* * *

V. Kiss

Curiosity hit my consciousness just ahead of the discomfort of seeing his anger directed at me. Clark had just done something that defied explanation. Again. However, the time didn't seem right to broach the subject. 

The problem was that my body had missed all of the preceding, having concentrated on Clark's extreme physical proximity. By now, my cock was trying to breach the gap between our bodies, and doing a very good job. I seriously had to move away. 

"Let me up, Clark," I said, trying to extricate myself. 

"No! You're finally going to listen to me!" he replied, pushing my arms into the bed. 

I tried to listen, but physical distraction was frying my comprehension. I felt the heat from his hands warming my arms through my sleeves. I felt the slight weight of his baggy shirt shifting on my torso every time he took a breath. I felt his knees pushing in against my hips. 

Mostly, though, I felt my own arousal. I had wanted this closeness for too long. Now, I couldn't last. I tried to keep my body still and my breathing regular, but my heart was pounding. If Clark didn't stop yelling at me soon, I was simply going to come in my pants, and I still wasn't getting what he was saying. 

The way that Clark finally got me to focus was this: he took his right hand off my left arm and put it on my crotch. Then he pushed. 

It was about then that I found out that I can gasp, moan and scream all at the same time. I also jerked my legs up reflexively, and kneed Clark in the ass, which didn't help anything at all. 

"Tell me you're not attracted to me, Lex!" he was yelling. "Tell me you don't want me!" 

I understood that. I understood that, despite my best efforts, I was going to be the reason he got hurt. 

"I want you, Clark," I said softly. "I've wanted you from the first time I saw you. But making love to you is still a very bad idea." 

This calmed him down enough that his next words were almost at a normal volume. "Because you think I might get hurt." 

"Badly." 

"So, you're trying to protect me." 

"Yes." 

"Because you love me." 

"God, yes." 

I wouldn't normally have admitted to this out loud, but Clark's hand was still pressing down on my cock, and it was somehow interfering with my speech-censoring mechanism. 

"So you admit that you can give me love, and sex, and you want to, but instead you'll try to protect me and make my decisions for me because you think that's better for me." He turned up the volume again. "Lex, you're an idiot!" 

I examined his contention from every angle that my mind was still able to reach, looking for the flaw I felt sure had to be there. I couldn't find it. 

"I'm an idiot, Clark," I responded at last. "Kiss me." 

His whole weight collapsed on me then, fortunately not from a great distance. His mouth, so recently shouting invectives at me, pressed against mine, and opened at the first nudge of my tongue. 

The first time that Clark had breathed into my mouth, I was dead and unable to enjoy it properly. When he pulled me out of death, my lungs were ravaged with water damage, and felt as though they had exploded in my chest. I was also drenched through, and freezing. 

This was much better. Now, as I sucked Clark's breath into my lungs, there was no pain. But he was still giving me back my life, after I had thrown it away. 

* * *

VI. Finally

Something pulled hard at my neck, and ripped. It was my shirt. Clark had ripped my shirt trying to get it off. A mental note vanished into my subconscious. 

Clark continued his destructive trend by ripping his own shirt. I grabbed his hand. "Clark, what are you going to wear when you go home?" 

"I've got more clothes with me, Lex." 

I let this remark slide, and helped Clark get the rest of his shirt off. 

"Clark, I'd like to take my shoes and pants off in the usual way. The ripping is kind of unnerving." 

"Oh, sure, Lex. Sorry about your shirt." 

"The least of my worries, Clark." And it was, given what I was about to do with a minor. 

I scrambled out of my clothes, and then yanked on the bedclothes, opening a space for us between the sheets. Clark had his pants off, but was still wearing his boxers. Cold feet, or just shy about undressing? 

"Clark, are you sure you want to do this?" 

"You don't know how much, Lex, I just-- feel--" 

Shy about undressing. Well, it wasn't my fault that Clark came over when it was still daylight. And I found it unexpectedly sweet that he wasn't used to being naked in front of people. 

"C'mere," I said, holding my arms out to him. He lay down next to me and I pulled the sheet up over us. I planned to spend a lot of time watching his beautiful body, but wanted him to enjoy it as much as I did. 

So I went back to expressing my feelings by kissing. His mouth was bigger than mine, and took a lot of exploring. Clark seemed fascinated by the scar on my lip. I'd seen him eyeing it before. He bit my lip and ran his tongue over it. From now on, every time I caught him looking at that scar, I'd know he was remembering this. 

I used one hand to play with his hair, and the other to explore his shoulders, back, and chest, which were very well developed from his work on the farm. His shoulder blades did strong and compelling things as his arms caressed my body. 

Could I undress him now? I put my hand behind his back and pulled slightly toward me. Clark instantly scooted toward me, closing that last millimeter of space between us. I shivered as he pushed into me. 

Our erections ground together through the warm, slightly damp, fabric of his boxers. I ran my hand under the waistband, and kneaded his ass. Then, I pulled my hand around to caress his balls, tentatively at first, since I didn't know yet how sensitive they were. Hypersensitivity didn't seem to be a problem. 

Then I followed the length of his cock to...foreskin? Could it be? This was about the last thing I expected to encounter in a town where I'd encountered some fairly offbeat things. I looked up into Clark's eyes, and found them twinkling. 

"You seem..." he said between kisses, "surprised." 

"You never..." I responded in like manner, "cease...to amaze...me, Clark." 

His next kiss was wrapped around a chuckle. Throwing me for a loop had clearly done good things for his sexual confidence. The time was right. 

"Clark...I have...to see." 

I knelt beside Clark and uncovered him. He untangled himself from the sheet, and pulled off his boxers. This beautiful movement involved a lot of rippling muscles, and ended with Clark lying naked and hard and, yes, uncut, in front of me. I watched, spellbound, wishing for instant replay. 

"I'm overwhelmed," I said, running my hands lightly over his body, following the edges of his muscles. "Wow." 

Maybe it was self-consciousness that made him pull me back to his mouth. Not content to stay there, I started kissing my way down his jaw, his neck, his chest. Clark started squirming under my lips and hands. His hands shook slightly as he made circling motions on my head. His breath caught as I pinched one of his nipples and bit the other. 

As I continued on my way down his body, I hummed in my lower register, letting my vibrating lips skim lightly on his skin, occasionally pausing to suck lightly. As I hummed over his navel, Clark's belly jerked up and slammed into my face. 

"Ow, Clark," I said, rubbing my nose and mouth. 

"Sorry, Lex," said Clark through a laughing fit. "That feels funny." 

"Jesus, do I have to start tying you up already?" I twisted his navel with my fingers. 

He just jerked his belly up again and laughed, apparently failing to realize that I was serious. 

"Lie still," I said. His laughter was contagious. I tried not to catch it, and just about succeeded. 

Rubbing his belly, I lowered myself to the bed. I took his cock in my hand, and put my elbow between his thighs, so that I could prop myself up. Clark discovered that my cock was within his reach, which worked for me. 

I played with his balls. Using my wet lips to make a seal, I sucked them into my mouth. I scraped them with my teeth. Clark was very much not hypersensitive. I was grateful for that, because I was enjoying what I was doing. I stroked his cock, covering and uncovering the head. I couldn't wait to taste him. 

Back in the days when I hadn't cared if I lived or died, I only used condoms as birth control. In those days, I had tasted all flavors of come, salty, bitter, sour, the relatively rare sweet, the extremely rare chalky. 

I had gotten to know all the consistencies between the slick, watery kind that you can hardly tell from saliva except by the taste, to the dry, chunky kind that mostly happens first thing in the morning, and always made me gag. Sometimes, it's nice not to feel jaded. 

But that was a lifetime ago. And I usually avoid virgins as sexual partners. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had come in my mouth. The idea of tasting Clark was driving me crazy. However, as I wrapped my mouth around his cock, Clark started to sit up, clearly intent upon blowing me. This was a bit of a problem. 

Because, of course, I was not a virgin. Despite my doctor's assurances of continuing good health, I wasn't about to come in Clark's mouth without a condom. This positioning was deliberate, so that we couldn't quite sixty-nine. And I didn't want to break the moment to have this conversation. 

"Don't, Clark," I said. "Do for me what you do for yourself. Please." 

"Is that all you want, Lex?" 

"You underestimate yourself, Clark." 

He put both pillows behind his head, and complied. His hands were definitely shaking now, which I found very stimulating. They were never as rough as I expected, given all the manual labor he did. He jacked me off gently, as though afraid of hurting me. But, God, the shaking did things to me. 

I moaned my appreciation into his cock. This time, when he jerked up into my face, I was ready. He didn't laugh though. So I did it again. I got a 'God, Lex' out of him. What I really enjoyed about this technique was that he squeezed me harder when he jerked up. 

Clark figured that out, too. He was getting the feel of me, learning our differences, trying new things. I made encouraging sounds. The sound that I made when he pressed on that spot between my balls and my cock, though, was totally unplanned. I looked up at him, our eyes locked, and we both started laughing. 

Sex had never been so much fun. I had to look away from his face to even continue. I internalized our two rhythms as we stroked and bounced off each other at oblique angles, and had to consciously stop my mind as it wandered off in the direction of chaos theory. Fortunately, sensation finally overwhelmed my mental processes, and I physically focused. 

Clark's cock slammed against the back of my throat, his foreskin sliding in its own time. His hand jacked me off, more confidently now. The bed moved to the syncopated motion of the bucking of our hips. Clark's weight on the bed pulled me toward him, while his thigh under my arm threatened to throw me off. The scent of sex permeated the air around us, as did sounds the source of which I could no longer identify. 

My awareness filled up. Every cell in my body responded with need, and desire, and warm, fuzzy desperation. As my control dissolved, my response coalesced into a solid, growing thing. My need for Clark was inside me and all around me, absorbing everything else that I had ever been, everything else that I had ever known. 

I was so tightly wound up, I couldn't even breathe. Or move. My breath caught in my throat and I went still, balanced on the edge. Then Clark scraped the underside of my cock with his nails, and I went over. Falling. Shuddering. Disintegrating into a million bright, tingling, very small stars. 

I cried out my release around Clark's cock. Maybe he laughed. I'm not sure, because my ears were ringing. Also, my hands were shaking. My heart was pounding. I could almost hear my skin buzzing. And Clark was still there with me, not the vanished fantasy with which I was far more familiar. I really hadn't felt this good since I was dead. 

I could barely keep the rhythm of my mouth going through my ragged moaning and convulsive swallowing. It didn't matter, because we were past the point where I was sucking Clark's cock. Now, he was fucking my mouth, and all I could do was be there, waiting for that moment when he needed more. 

I felt him start to arch up as he grasped a handful of blanket. I scraped my teeth along the base of his cock and ran a fingernail along his perineum, from his balls to his hole, as I moaned around him. 

Clark came in complete silence, orgasming like a boy used to having his parents in the next room. I stifled my amusement. As the older, more sophisticated partner, I had a reputation to maintain. If I choked on laughter, and snorted Clark's come out my nose, well, how embarrassing would _that_ be? 

His come really surprised me. It wasn't a taste I'd ever had before. It tasted hot, as if it were mixed with wasabi. I swirled it around in my mouth, baffled by the taste. I couldn't imagine what the boy had been eating. 

I mean, I always wondered where airplane food came from, until I moved to Smallville. Possibly, my opinion of the local cuisine might have been marginally higher had I ever eaten in coach. A town with wonderful produce, though. 

Clark's balls were still pulled up into his body. They were dark and hard, looking exactly like a slightly hairy Klingon's head. I never understood how they got away with showing that on television. Well, actors with blatantly suggestive heads were not my concern. 

I stroked Clark's slowly softening cock and watched his balls squirm and twist back into their usual position. The way balls move never ceases to fascinate me. They are so damned weird, I'm surprised that they exist anywhere outside of Smallville. 

Clark's hand was languid and soothing on my cock. I couldn't remember ever feeling so contented. But after a while, I wanted my mouth on Clark's. After giving his cock a final suck, I turned back around, and took his head in my hands. I was just getting into the kiss, when Clark pulled away. 

"Lex, your mouth tastes funny." 

"That's you, you moron." 

"Oh. I didn't realize I tasted so..." 

"Perfect, Clark. Your taste is perfect. You are perfect. Yummy beyond the fevered dreams of gods and poets. Now shut up and kiss me." I brushed my hand appreciatively down Clark's gorgeous abs, and noticed something else. No sweat. 

My bare skin throws off so much body heat that I don't usually warm up enough during sex to break a sweat. But most people do. Clark's skin was no warmer than mine, and just as dry. The wheels in my mind started turning again. 

I can't help it. I'm a thinker, the result of growing up a genius and alone. I don't lose control without something in my bloodstream forcibly shutting down large chunks of my brain. That one drink just before Clark barged in on me wasn't nearly enough. 

Not that I wanted to be lost in alcohol when I was with Clark. No, I wanted to be lost in him. Unfortunately, that was a level of intimacy with which I had no experience. Nobody had ever made me want it before. Now, I didn't know how to begin. 

I could only hope that what I _could_ give Clark was enough to make him stay with me, long enough for me to learn. He had already saved my life. Maybe, he could save my soul. 

* * *

VII. Questions

"Lex?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Is there another pillow in that chest at the foot of the bed?" 

"I doubt it, Clark. That's my toy chest." 

Clark looked incredulous, but I kept my smile noncommittal. He crawled over to the chest and lifted the lid. 

"Wow," he said, his eyes going wide. "These are your toys?" he asked, pulling out a particularly intimidating whip. 

"They can be a lot of fun, Clark, but they're not on the agenda for today." 

"Do you have more?" asked Clark, untangling a complicated set of restraints. 

"Well, let's see," I said, preparing to count on my fingers. "There's the stainless steel butt plug in the refrigerator--" 

Clark stopped the inventory with a wave of his hand. 

"I changed my mind, Lex. I don't want to know." 

"Just so we're clear, Clark, we will never do anything we don't both want to do. You've got nothing to worry about." 

"Thanks for the reassurance," he said, taking one more look into the chest before closing it. 

I got up, went to the closet, and grabbed another pillow. 

On my way back to the bed, an envelope on the floor near the door caught my attention. I picked up the envelope, pulled out the note, and read: 'I put the truck in the garage, sir.' The man was getting one hell of a raise. 

"As a businessman to a future business owner, Clark, intelligence and discretion are bargains at any price." He looked at me quizzically. "Your truck's in the garage." 

"I guess I shouldn't have just left it out there." 

"You can park in my garage any time, Clark," I said smiling, and handed over the pillow as I got back into bed. "But now, I have a question for you." 

"What's that, Lex?" 

"Clark, why are you packed to spend the night? I'm not complaining, just curious." 

"Oh, well, see, I talked to my mom." 

Noticing that this didn't come near to answering the question, I encouraged elaboration. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah. I told her you thought people were talking about us, and that I should date girls." 

Slightly disturbing, but still not an answer. "Go on." 

"I told her that I was pissed off at you because you were avoiding me, and that I didn't want to be with someone I didn't love, when there was someone I did love, and that was you." 

Christ. "You told your mother that?" 

"And then I told her I was sure you loved me too even though you denied it, and that I wasn't going to take the brush-off from you any more, and that I was going to see you one way or another, and that I wouldn't be home until tomorrow morning." 

There was my answer. I buried my face in my hands. Isn't young love wonderful. 

"What did you tell your dad? And I'm so afraid to ask." 

"Nothing. He's at a cattle auction in Wyoming. He won't be home until Friday." 

"Well, that explains the lack of threats to my life and freedom." 

"Hey, Lex." 

"Yeah?" 

"Let's do more stuff," demanded Clark, bouncing happily on the bed. 

Teenagers. 

* * *

VIII. More

I pulled Clark into my arms and lay back on the bed, with him on top of me. I stroked down his spine and into his crack. I sucked a finger, and stroked down his spine again, this time reaching his pucker and ending with a gentle circling tease. 

"Do you want me to fuck you, Clark? Or you could fuck me." 

"You want me to choose? Which do you want, Lex?" 

"Both, actually, and a lot more," I said, gently tugging at the skin around Clark's starfish, "but I'm not particular about the order. We'll do whatever you want, Clark." 

"Um," he started, and looked away. 

"Tell me what you want, Clark. I'll do anything for you." 

"Anything?" He was so damned sweet. It was all I could do stop myself from claiming his ass without another word. 

"Yes, Clark. Tell me. Do you want me to fuck you?" 

This was my actual preference at the moment. I was ready to be accommodating if he wanted something else first, but he had to say the words. My guess was that he wouldn't. Sure enough, he simply nodded his assent. 

"You sure?" I asked. 

Another nod. Close enough. I smiled, and reached into the nightstand for a condom and lube. 

"You don't need this, Lex," said Clark, taking the condom from my hand. 

"Clark, how do you know?" 

The question was rhetorical, but to my surprise, Clark looked ready to spill his guts. Was this the key to getting his secrets? Because I could certainly work with this. 

And I would have to. Work at it, I mean. Because a moment later, the look was gone. Well, I'm nothing if not patient. I held Clark close, and stroked his hair. 

"Clark, my last tests just came back negative, but I'm afraid to take the risk. You mean too much to me. Please. I need you to give me this." 

The look flickered in his eyes. I held my breath. Finally, he handed the condom back. It was hard to feel too disappointed, when I was about to fuck Clark for the first time. 

"Pay close attention," I said, as I tore open the package. 

"I saw the tape in school, Lex," he said, rolling his eyes. 

"Fine. Then tell me which side is up," I said, holding the condom up to his eyes. 

"There is no up in condoms, Lex." 

"There is in these, Clark." 

He grabbed the dark blue package on the bed. "Wait. Are these some kind of high-end, top-of-the-line, super expensive condoms?" 

"Of course." 

"I should've known." 

"Focus, Clark. This bubble goes up, see?" I started rolling the thing on. "That means this ridged pouch ends up underneath." 

Clark's brow furrowed in concentration. He was so cute. How on Earth had he stayed a virgin so long? 

"It's important not to get any hairs trapped inside, because they pull and hurt. So I'm told. That's the trickiest part of putting a condom on somebody using just your mouth." 

"Why wouldn't I use my hands?" 

"Well, you might be handcuffed." 

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" 

"You will, Clark." 

He considered this, then grinned. "You're right, Lex." 

No, I wasn't having any trouble staying hard. 

"Roll over on your knees and elbows, Clark," I said, spreading lube on my fingers. He did so, without any hesitation. His trust touched me. The things an adult could do to a kid didn't even enter his mind. I warmed the lube in my hands, as I knelt behind Clark. 

"Hey, Lex." 

"Yes, Clark?" 

"What did guys do, you know, before there was lube?" 

"Well, some of them used egg whites--" 

"Egg whites?!" Clark had suddenly turned toward me. 

"Hey!" I said, slapping his ass lightly with the back of my hand. "No sudden moves. I'm trying not to hurt you here. Or me." 

He gave me an apologetic smile and turned around. I put one finger on his hole, and used my other hand to gently massage his ass. 

"Clark," I said in my most reassuring voice, "take a deep breath and exhale slowly through your mouth." 

I waited for him to start breathing out. Then, I closed my eyes and pushed in, pausing slightly at every contraction, until my finger was completely inside Clark. The exhalation had turned into a soft moan. Maybe two moans, I'm not sure. The moment was almost orgasmic. I had to open my eyes, close my mouth, and swallow before I could speak again. 

"Are you all right, Clark?" 

"Nguhn" or words to that effect. "I'll never complain about runny eggs again." 

I laughed, and started working my finger in and out through the diminishing contractions. I rubbed his lower back, and felt the tension ease. 

"I'm going to put another finger in you, Clark. Breathe for me again." 

As he did so, he pushed back hard into my fingers. "I'm sorry I keep squeezing like that, Lex. I'm trying not to." 

Jesus, the things you don't think to explain. No wonder we all have to learn things the hard way. "Just your outer sphincter is under your conscious control, Clark. Not your inner one. It relaxes when it relaxes. There's nothing you can do." 

"Yours does the same thing?" 

"Yes, as you'll find out. You're doing fine, Clark." 

"Good, 'cause I was feeling like a dork." 

"You get the weirdest ideas, Clark. One more finger. Breathe. Exhale." 

I was glad that Clark could talk through this, because it was the only thing keeping my lust at a manageable level. I nearly lost it as I felt him tighten around my three fingers. Worse, I couldn't remember what we were talking about. 

"What weird ideas do I get, Lex?" 

Oh, right. Well, how about the idea that you can lie to me repeatedly, and I won't notice? Not the time to bring that up, but it would postpone orgasm until I was ready. 

"How about, that you're not the sexiest thing in Smallville?" 

"I think I don't have a monopoly on weird ideas." 

I pulled my fingers out, and smeared the hot lube on my cock. "I think you're ready, Clark. What do you think?" 

"I'm ready. And no more talking." 

"Breathe, Clark. And that's the last thing I'm saying." 

I pushed my cock against his slicked hole and placed my hands, once I wiped the lube off them, high on his hips, so that I could direct his movements and monitor his breathing with my eyes closed. 

I rode three breaths into Clark's ass, waiting and feeling him around me as he breathed in, pushing further into him as he breathed out. Finally, I was all the way in, and unable to remember a time when I hadn't been. 

I pulled out with his next moan. Then back into his welcoming body. His back arched and flexed sinuously under my hands, his muscles forming a display that I couldn't look away from. He put his head back. I reached down and stroked his hair. Incoherent sounds came out of his mouth. 

I timed my thrusts and my breathing to Clark's, reaching down to stroke his cock when I needed us to speed up. His responsiveness was perfect. All I had to do was touch him. Maybe our verbal communication left a lot to be desired, but our bodies were downright telepathic. 

Clark started pushing back into me. "Clark," I said. The word sounded raspy and low, almost hoarse. It was the most beautiful word I knew. Actually, at the moment, it was the only word I knew, so I said it again. "Clark. Clark. Clark." 

I closed my eyes and felt him around me. Yes, of course it felt good. It always feels good to fuck someone. This was more. There was something different about the singing in my blood and the radiant heat that surrounded us. I rubbed circles into his hips with my thumbs, trying to reach understanding by touch. 

I didn't get it then, not in words. My feet pulled on the sheet as I tried to brace myself more securely on the bed. My hands on Clark's hips were shaking with the tension that had built up in my body. I sucked in quick, shallow breaths, exhaling random sounds that sounded nothing like me. And I didn't need anything else at all. _That_ was Clark. Completeness. Why would I need another word? 

"Lex," said Clark, and his voice was raspy, too. All right, I knew that word too. Clark. Lex. Words in the stillness behind the short-circuiting of my brain. The reality that remained constant and true through the frenzied thrusting of bodies pulled apart and pushed together. 

Clark's voice surrounded me, and fire built up inside of me, needing to get out, to get to Clark. I needed more of his skin. I didn't have the leverage to pull him up, but I reached down and grabbed his left arm. I yanked, and he straightened up. I put my left arm around him, and held him close, feeling his ragged breaths go through me. I sucked on his skin, unable to get enough. My right hand tightened around his thrusting cock. Then a final thrust, the moment opened up, and Clark and I...just...ooh. 

Ooh. Ooh in stereo. Understanding returned. Clark's come in my hand. Clark dropping his head to rest on his arms, though he kept his ass where it was. I was still in him, and still holding on to him, so I dropped on top of him. 

I grabbed the edge of the condom and pulled out slowly. I managed to raise one knee over his leg, in an attempt to move over beside him. Then, I just collapsed hard on the bed. 

Clark straightened his legs, and stretched out where he was. We lay there, breathing hard. Clark looked at me and smiled. I stroked his hair. Clark. Completeness. Why would I need another word? 

* * *

IX. Pain

Clark watched as I took off the condom, tied it off, and threw it away. 

"Was the condom that bad, Clark?" I asked, cleaning the leftover come off my cock. 

"I just want you, Lex," he said, throwing his arms around me. "Put a wool sweater on your cock, if you want. I don't care." 

I started laughing uncontrollably. 

"What's so funny, Lex?" 

"Don't ask me, please." 

"Tell me, Lex." 

"All right. I saw a conversation in my mind. Your mom says: 'Clark, I don't know what to get your boyfriend for Christmas.' Then you say: 'Gosh, mom, why don't you knit him a new sweater for his cock?'" 

Clark shoved me. "You are twisted, Lex." 

"Just make sure it's black," I said, still laughing. "I don't want it to clash with the rest of my outfit." 

Clark grabbed my shoulder, turned me over on my stomach, and planted a wicked slap on my ass. 

"Oh God, Lex, I'm sorry." 

Confused, as I thought that was meant to be my line, I twisted around to look at Clark. "What's wrong?" 

"I left a red mark on your ass. I didn't mean to do that." 

"Oh. Don't worry. My skin recovers very quickly." 

"Oh, you're right," he said, rubbing the slap mark is a gentle and very tantalizing manner. "It's vanishing." 

"Mmmm," I responded languidly. Clark seemed to take this as encouragement, and started tracing warm curves down my back and legs with his hands. The boy could be a Rolfer. Well, he could be a lot of things, really. I love potential. 

"Anyway," I said, returning to an earlier point. "I can't believe you smacked me for what I said. What would you do if I ever did something really bad?" 

"Like what?" 

"I don't know, Clark. I don't have my future felonies planned out, being currently satisfied with statutory rape. But I'm pretty sure I'll think of something." 

"Well then, so will I," said Clark, smiling mischievously. He sucked a finger and, pulling my cheeks apart, started teasing my hole and just about then, I lost my train of thought. 

"Lex, it's my turn now." 

"To do what, Clark?" I prompted. 

"What do you think?" 

"Tell me, Clark." Like pulling teeth. 

"Is it that important that I say it?" 

"Is it so hard to say?" 

Clark leaned down and whispered in my ear. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm going to fuck you, Lex." 

I melted. Just melted. 

I pulled the lube out of a fold in the sheet and handed it to Clark. Then, I took another condom out of the metal case, and held it out to him. 

"Knock yourself out," I said. "And hold on to the edge of the condom when you pull out after you come." 

That look flickered through his eyes again. I was convinced. Condoms were unnecessary between us, for a secret reason that Clark didn't want to share. Well, that sharing was my price, and I was holding out for it. Clark took the little packet and tore it open. 

I didn't watch him. I trusted him, after all. Instead I just rolled over on my hands and knees. I preferred more challenging positions, but thought it unfair to introduce one so soon. 

There was one position, in particular, that I was waiting for. It required a very, very strong partner. It was about the first thing that had popped into my head the first time I laid eyes on Clark, after the pain started subsiding. I smiled in anticipation. 

I gasped as Clark's finger touched me. I had neglected to mention anything about warming lube. Oh, well. He slid his finger in tentatively. I pushed back into his hand as my sphincter contracted. Clark's moan answered mine. Almost immediately, he stopped. 

"Um, Lex?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Um, slight problem." 

"What is it, Clark?" 

"This is turning me on too much. I can't wait." 

"Take your finger out and just fuck me, Clark." This was going to be a challenging position after all. 

"Are you sure, Lex?" 

"Don't tease me, Clark," I laughed. I could do this. 

Clark pulled his finger out, and I took a deep breath. As I felt Clark's cock stretch me open, I did a long, slow moan, willing myself to relax. Clark's progress was slow, but relentless. A quick gulp of air, and another slow moan. 

As the length of his cock pushed my rectum in, the thickness of the base was stretching me out toward real pain. Finally, I felt his hips against my ass, his balls against mine. My unprepared opening burned fiercely, but further in, my body conformed to Clark's shape as though made for him. 

"You okay, Lex?" 

I considered the question. "Never better," I said. And that was quite close to the truth. 

Clark took a breath, and rubbed my back. Then, he pulled out, starting out slowly but speeding up. Going back in, he was a lot faster, but slowed to a stop. He was trying to be gentle, but losing control. It made his timing erratic. 

"Breathe, Clark," I said. 

That helped. Clark settled into a rhythm that I could follow. His hands on my hips directed my movements with a gentle touch. The pain turned to pressure as I relaxed around him. I was startled to realize how congenially familiar Clark's body already seemed to me. 

Clark was going strong. His breathing got louder and more vocal, and his grip hardened on my hips. I soon found out how much strength there was in the muscles that slammed him into my ass again and again. He pushed in and pulled out, searing me with sense memories that would be ingrained in my body for the rest of my life. 

I looked down and saw my erect cock tethered to the sheet by a thin, sticky, strand of precome. The only reason that the pain/pleasure intensity hadn't caused me to come with no further stimulation was that I had already come twice tonight. 

I hadn't done three orgasms in one night for a while, but I was game. I created a counterweight pain by grabbing my balls and pulling, then I shifted my awareness between that and Clark's punishing thrusts until I was suspended between the two, squeezed in by pain and the sound of Clark's voice. 

"Clark," I gasped. "I'm going to scream, but don't worry." 

"Lex. Lex." Clark was raking my sides with his nails as he thrust one last time, and ground into me violently. 

I had been biting my lip, out of fear that any sounds I might make would sound too alarming. Once Clark was safely over the edge though, I cut loose. My scream was formed out of the dual pain, and pushed that pain forcibly through my body and out my mouth. I yanked hard, and saw stars, just before orgasm dragged me down into oblivion. 

I actually blacked out for a moment. Clark was kneeling by my collapsed form, shaking my shoulder. 

"Lex! Are you okay?" 

'Great!' is what I meant to say, but it took a few tries to get a recognizable rendition of the word out of my mouth. 

"Oh, Lex, I thought I'd really hurt you," said Clark, looking worried as he stroked my head. 

"Do I look hurt?" I hedged, grinning. "It was just very intense, Clark. Very intense. Very, very good..." The words trailed off. Every shred of energy was completely wrung out of my body. All I could do was lie there, thankful that there were no meetings tomorrow morning. 

"Very, very good, Lex?" asked Clark, as he lay down. 

"Brilliant. You were brilliant, Clark." 

He smiled brightly, which gave me the strength to pull him closer, or at least, to paw ineffectually at him until he moved into my arms. The endorphins were wearing off, and ow, ow, even with quick healing, it was going to be a rough morning. Some gentle negotiating was in order before we did this again. 

As the afterglow slowly faded, my body cooled down. Shivering, I pulled the blankets over us. 

"Are you cold, Lex?" 

"A little." 

"I thought you didn't get cold." 

"Why did you think that?" 

"Well, you never wear a hat, even when it's snowing." 

"I don't want people thinking that I'm hiding my baldness." 

"You worry too much about what people think, Lex." 

And this was where it started, wasn't it? I cut Clark out of my life because of what people thought. All right. I got the message. Remorse tightened the edges of my eyes. 

Personally, I forgive if and when I'm ready. I reserve the right to decide when I move on. I mean, I wouldn't still have been trying to help Jonathan Kent if I needed apologies. 

But some people require mollifying before letting things go. My father, for one. Clark, for another, a sad fact that I had learned on an earlier unfortunate occasion. As I opened my mouth, I was therefore prepared for this to take a while. 

"Clark, I'm sorry I pushed you away. I--" 

Clark surprised me now by pressing a finger to my lips. I stopped and waited, uncertain what he wanted from me. 

"Shh," he said, cradling my head gently. "Don't." He took his finger from my lips and made light, caressing movements across my forehead and down the side of my face. Then, he pulled us together, until our lips were nearly touching. "Don't." 

"Clark,--" I tried again. This time, my words were stopped by his lips and his tongue. Grateful, I gave in to the kiss. Forgiveness was sweet and hot in my mouth. 

* * *

X. Morning

Just before three in the morning, I woke up in a cold sweat and gasping for air. These flashbacks to the losing of my own virginity are the reason I avoid virgins. I had expected the pounding in my chest, but not the cold. Jesus, I was freezing. It took me a moment to figure out why. 

Clark was hogging the blankets. That's another thing about virgins; they don't know how to share a bed. I pulled on the blankets as gently as I could, given that my hands were shaking. Clark stirred slightly, and mumbled something in his sleep. 

He was hard to see. There was no moon, and his features were lit only by faint starlight. That didn't stop me from watching him as he slept, once I was lying next to him, waiting for the shivers and the memory of the nightmare to fade. 

We had missed dinner. I should have something for him to eat when he woke up. Taking him downstairs for breakfast wouldn't be wise. There was a compact refrigerator in my bedroom, but it wasn't for food. The only actual food in the room was a bowl of fruit. I decided to go downstairs and look for cereal. 

First, I put on a robe, an extremely thick white terrycloth that weighed more than any of my coats. The house was a mausoleum, impossible to heat, even though most of the rooms were closed off. A lot of the building I had seen only once, during my initial tour. 

Frankly, I was clear on the location of the kitchens only because that was where Clark brought the produce. That was enough for me to locate the milk. Where would the cereal be? Probably in the pantry, wherever that was. I poked around. 

There was a batard on the counter. I took it, tearing chunks out of it to eat during my search. Since arriving in Smallville, I hadn't had the inclination to prepare my own food. Which was why I was now wandering through my house, unable to find my cereal. It's 3 a.m. Do you know where your cereal is? 

My ideas on cooking have always been colored by my knowledge of chemistry. In spite of this, I'm actually a fairly decent cook, thanks to Fiesole who was, when I knew him, an up-and-coming chef in Rimini. 

"We've all left Rome for Lalage's sake, By the Legions' Road to Rimini..." 

Fiesole was a far more patient teacher than most people who had seen his Prima Donna act would believe. They didn't know that he had a particularly funny version that he saved for the bedroom. 

But what I remember most is watching as he mixed something in a double boiler, a Zabaglione, I think. Tenderness, just this side of utterly frightening, palpable in the air around him. 

"And I've lost Britain, and I've lost Gaul, And I've lost Rome and, worst of all,  
I've lost Lalage..." 

This is what happens when I'm alone in the middle of the might. I get maudlin. I rounded a corner, went through a door, and found myself in the main dining hall. What was I doing down here, when Clark was upstairs? Giving up on the cereal, I went back upstairs to Clark. 

He was still asleep. I put the milk in the refrigerator, the batard on the sideboard, and the robe on the floor, before returning to bed. I watched Clark sleep, and wished for moonlight. Well, I had done my best. Whatever dreams this night inspired for Clark, I hope they have been good ones. 

Lips. On my forehead. I opened my eyes. The room wasn't any brighter. Clark was kneeling by the bed. He seemed to be fully dressed, but I couldn't be sure. 

"What time is it, Clark?" I asked, my voice groggy. 

"Sorry I woke you. It's five-thirty." 

"What the hell are you doing up?" I switched on the lamp. He was definitely dressed, more's the pity. 

"I live on a farm, Lex. I'm always up early. And with my dad gone, I have that much more to do before school." 

"Give me a minute to put something on, and I'll drive you home." 

I started to get up, but Clark stopped me, his hand warm against my bare chest. "Lex. I drove." 

I laughed. "That's the problem with lovers. They get to see you hours before your brain wakes up." 

"So I couldn't let you drive now anyway," teased Clark. "You'd fall asleep at the wheel." 

"I can be awake at this hour. I just need a running start." 

"About eighteen hours?" 

"About that." 

"You'll never be a farm boy, Lex," he said, before pushing me down with a kiss. 

"That's why I need you, Clark." 

"You got along just fine before I came along, Lex." 

"Anyone who's known me would give you an argument on the 'just fine'." 

"I wish those chores weren't waiting for me, Lex." 

"At least eat something before you go," I said, glancing toward the sideboard. "And there's milk in the refrigerator." 

"Thanks." He walked over to the refrigerator, and opened it. 

"Um, Lex?" 

"Yes, Clark?" 

"Why are these test tubes in your refrigerator?" 

"To keep the contents dormant." 

Pause. "Ah." Pause. "And which one's the butt plug?" 

"I was kidding, Clark. It's in the toy chest." 

He shook his head and took out the milk. For a moment, I thought he was going to drink the milk straight out of the bottle. Then he grabbed a water glass from the sideboard. Thank you. I didn't need to be reminded that I was a cradle robber. 

What I needed was to touch on an important point before he left. "Clark." 

"Yeah?" 

"Now that the rumors are true, it's more important than ever that you explore your heterosexual side." 

"Are you kidding?" 

"No, Clark." I pressed onward, trying to sound more convincing. "I'd choose Chloe. At least she knows where her sex drive is." 

"What, you think Lana misplaced her sex drive?" 

I checked my timing and delivery carefully. 

"I believe it was flattened by a meteor," I deadpanned. 

Perfect. Milk sprayed out of Clark's nose and all over the carpet. Just beautiful. One day, Clark... 

"You are evil," laughed Clark, grabbing tissues from the box I held out to him. 

"I'm sure the maid will agree with you," I said. 

Clark finished cleaning himself off, then started trying to sop the milk out of the carpet. 

Once, when I was very young, I spilled a glass of milk in my bedroom. It didn't seem to stain the carpet, so I didn't tell anyone. The truth came out when my nanny complained about the smell of rancid milk. 

Well, I learned my lesson on that occasion. Consequently, having this carpet cleaned was on my list of things to do soonest. It didn't matter in the least whether Clark bothered to clean it up. 

I let him continue for the simple pleasure of watching him crawl around on my bedroom floor. After all, the boy was right. I am evil. 

* * *

XI. Honesty

Clark left after one last, milk-flavored kiss. The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off, the zen chimes getting progressively louder. I finally got up. 

I thought about my situation as I showered, trying to be as objective as possible. I had committed a felony. My victim's mother knew about it. Common sense dictated that I go to her, and make sure that she didn't make trouble for me. 

My father used to pay people to do that for me. Now, I was on my own. But something was bothering me. I didn't know what it was, but there was definitely something else nagging in my subconscious. My lips were sealed until I figured it out. 

I dressed, then put the extra pillow back in the closet. There was no point in being obvious. My ripped shirt was not in the room. Clark had taken it with him. Fine. It wasn't evidence I wanted, but his trust. 

On my way out, I located my housekeeper. "Mrs. Heydarian, have the carpet in my bedroom cleaned today. I spilled milk on it this morning." 

"Milk, Mr. Luthor?" I wasn't known as a milk drinker. 

"Long story." 

"Yes, sir." 

The morning went by fairly quickly. I dragged Gabe off on a surprise, but low key, inspection of the plant. This fulfilled my secret 'no sitting' requirement, and we did find a couple of potential problems. As an added benefit, and I wouldn't admit this to anyone outside the plant, the man sometimes succeeded in making me laugh. 

Afterwards, I went back to look at some centrifuges that needed replacing. The new models were smaller, and I was hoping to fit a larger number of them into the available space. I was trying to figure out how many would fit if I tore down a wall, when the truth hit me. 

I was no longer trustworthy to a single person on the planet. Mrs. Kent was the only person I currently knew, to whom I had never lied. She was the only person who always believed me, even in the face of damning circumstantial evidence. 

It was the kind of honesty and faith I wanted, and didn't have, with Clark. Well, I could wait for that. Meanwhile, I had lost the only honest relationship I had in Smallville. And I wanted it back. 

I glanced at my watch. A quarter past eleven. Clark would be in school. Mr. Kent, of course, was still out of town. There was a lunch meeting with my Head of Accounting, but I could be back by then. Leaving the centrifuge question to simmer in my mind, I left the plant. 

No apologies. To apologize would imply an admission that what I had done was against my principles, as opposed to merely illegal. It also implied a promise not to do it again. Neither of which I meant. I wasn't going to apologize for the truth, simply acknowledge it. 

I didn't even have to spell the truth out. Thanks to Clark, who clearly told his parents a lot more than I had ever told mine, she already knew. All I really needed, for myself, was not to hide behind Clark. I didn't need his protection. 

I parked in front of the house, and went up the stairs. Mrs. Kent appeared in the doorway before I reached it. I stopped, and we looked at each other in silence. She wasn't brandishing anything that could be construed as a weapon, which was a good sign. 

I turned my palms up. "May I come in?" 

She held the door open, and nodded. I walked in, feeling instantly claustrophobic. The house seemed to crowd in on me. Of course, the Kent house was much smaller than mine. But, it was my own house that I usually found oppressive in its size, emptiness, and coldness. 

I shook off the feeling and got to the point. "When you came to see me, Mrs. Kent, I never thought I'd be here now. Not like this. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." 

"But it did." 

"Yes." 

"You made love to my son." 

"Yes." 

"I could have you arrested." 

"Why haven't you?" 

"I've seen Clark today." 

The suspense, and my inability to follow her train of thought, caused me to falter. "Um...meaning?" 

"He's walking on air. I've never seen him so happy." 

"Oh. I hope he settles down before Mr. Kent gets back." 

"So do I. It's so obvious." 

"And is it obvious that I'm in love with Clark?" 

"If I had any doubts, Lex, you'd be in jail." 

"I'm infinitely grateful for your astuteness and understanding." 

She smiled. "All I did was listen to my son." 

Oh. Just how much had Clark told her? Was I going to get a black, wool cock sweater for Christmas? I thought I had worked out all of my embarrassment issues when I went bald, but I was wrong. Sudden heat burned my face, and I turned away. 

"I'm referring to your attempts to protect Clark," she laughed. "Don't worry, Lex, I didn't get all the intimate details." 

The alarm on my handheld went off, conveniently allowing me to change the subject. "I have to go," I said. 

Mrs. Kent was looking past me out the window. "You'll just have time to say hello to Clark and Chloe." 

I turned around, surprised. "Why aren't they in school?" 

"Half-day. Faculty meeting this afternoon." 

"Oh. I didn't know." 

I really had to wrap this up quickly. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent, for your generosity." 

I extended my hand to her. Instead of taking it, she walked up and gave me a brief hug. I was so shocked and moved, that all I could do for a moment was stare into her eyes. "Thank you," I said softly, hoping that she knew how much I meant it. Then, I walked out the door and down the stairs. 

I've never been possessive of my lovers. Far from it, I'm always the one who runs. It serves me right that the lover I couldn't live without turned out to need more freedom than I could bear to give him. I smiled and waved. 

"Lex!" said Clark. "What are you doing here?" 

"I just needed to talk to your mom. Hi, Chloe." 

"Hi, Mr. Luthor." 

"Lex," I said. She smiled. We had this conversation repeatedly. 

Clark looked worried. "You're not leaving, are you, Lex?" 

"Yes, I'm afraid I have to get to a meeting." I didn't want to leave it at that, but couldn't figure out how to be reassuring. 

Mrs. Kent was standing in the doorway. "Clark!" 

"Be right there, mom." He faced me again. "I'll call you later." 

"Fine. Goodbye, Chloe." 

"Goodbye, Lex." 

They went up to the house. Oh...God. This was going to be the hardest relationship I was ever in. And this from a man with a history of relationships that came down on the wrong side of peculiar. 

Well, the one who sets the rules doesn't get to complain about them. I put on my sunglasses, and went back to my car. 

* * *

XII. Grace

I smiled before even consciously recognizing the footsteps in the hallway. Clark was on his way to see me. I looked up from the mayor's letter as he walked in. He looked...guilty. 

Even more so than when I had asked him about my shirt. He had said that he wanted something I had worn, and cited the unlikelihood that I would wear it again. I let him keep it, opting to be flattered rather than suspicious. 

So, what was bothering him now? I walked over and kissed him. 

"Hi, Clark," I said. 

"Um, hi, Lex." 

"What's up?" 

"Well, you know, stuff." 

"Stuff?" 

"Yeah." 

"For instance..." 

"I'm, uh, I'm taking Chloe to the Spring Formal." 

This was a high school dance. Lana was selling tickets at the Talon. And my happiness, though not unmitigated, was genuine. 

"Congratulations, Clark," I said. "Is this a black tie and long dress kind of thing?" 

"Or red tie and long dress." 

I winced. "If you put on a red bow tie, I will have to disown you, Clark." 

"That bad?" 

"Could be worse. I know one man who wears a piece of red yarn with a red pom pom at each end in place of a bow tie." 

"Really?" 

"He's quite old, though. So's his money." 

"So he gets away with it." 

"Yes. Now, you, on the other hand..." I held Clark at arm's length, and looked him slowly up and down, imagining him in black tie. Oh, yes. "Clark, I have to see pictures." 

"If I wear the black tie, Pete will wear the red." 

I pictured this. "He can carry it off better than you can." 

Clark gave me a sidelong glance. "Just how closely have you been looking at Pete?" 

"I'm just naturally observant." 

"Uh-huh." 

"And, quite apart from the fact that Pete loathes me, you're hardly in a position to be jealous, Clark." 

I said it lightly, meaning only to answer his teasing. What Clark was doing was hardly beyond the pale, compared to some of the things that _I_ had done. But Clark didn't have my perspective. Too late, I realized how badly he felt, and that I'd just made it worse. 

"Don't back out, Clark. How long have I been pushing you into this?" 

"I'm not even sure how I feel about her, Lex." 

I could be secure. "You'll figure it out." 

He was pacing around the room. "There was one thing I was wondering, Lex." 

"What's that, Clark?" 

"About that gift of yours--" 

"Forget it, Clark. You have to ask her yourself." 

"I can't just ask her, Lex." 

"You can't be sexually active and not communicate. It's suicide." 

He looked doubtful. I stared him down, though I had to ignore certain pertinent memories to do so. Finally, he nodded. 

"And, Clark?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Work out what you're going to say when she asks _you_." 

"Oh...right..." 

I rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a condom. 

"Lex, why do you have condoms in your office?" 

"I like to be prepared." 

"I'm sure your mother would be happy to know that her box paid off." 

"I'm not sure this is exactly what she had in mind." I tossed the little package to Clark. "Don't get Chloe pregnant." 

Clark looked shocked as he caught the thing. "It's our first date, Lex," he said. 

"You never know when somebody, with whom you've never had a date, will jump your bones, grab your cock, and demand sex on the spot." 

I had expected that losing his virginity would make Clark less susceptible to embarrassment, but it hadn't. He dropped his eyes and turned so red, I nearly broke out laughing. 

"Promise me you'll have it with you," I said gently, walking over and running my hand through his hair. "Just in case." 

Still blushing, Clark looked at me through his eyelashes, and grinned. "Okay, Lex, I promise." 

Life and death precede our artificial constructs of money, politics, and human authority, and are not bound by them. People die, you find yourself in exile, the unexpected befalls. Suddenly, you're standing on the scorched breeding grounds of your dreams, wiping off the blood, and asking the big questions. 

But similarly, life creates moments in which, by ignoring all times but now and all places but here, you can hold unearthly perfection in your hands. Then, you can drink deeply of the grace that will sustain you through the long droughts of everyday uncertainty. 

That stupid blush, those absurd lashes, that silly grin, the whole glorious package that was Clark Kent came together right then, and created such a moment for me. I pulled Clark into my arms with all my desperate strength. 

And I drank. 


End file.
